


Love Next Door.

by swedishmyntha



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 04:16:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10071119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swedishmyntha/pseuds/swedishmyntha
Summary: The main problem is always the same: his neighbour and his unrelenting passion for singing at preposterous and socially unacceptable hours. It had occured to him that the guy next door evidently didn't know of or simply woouldn't aknowledge the existence of karaoke rooms, specifically built for the purpose. Too bad he did create art when he opened his pleasingly shaped mouth. He does it even know.And Taeyong can't really complain.For the guy's also stunning. Incredibly.(And Taeyong may or may not have a silly teenie tiny minuscule temporary crush on him.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> the story unfolds through a long period of time months, years I don't know, you choose. I didn't specify, wanted to keep it realistic though, no feelings that deep grow in a matter of days. also I preferred to keep jaehyun's real name cause yeah, why not and WARNING didn't spell check, I'm lazy, but I will, sooner or later xx

Taeyong sighs. Defeated.

It is only 5 o'clock in the morning and he's already up, or, to put in in a better way, he's already sitting on his bed, staring blankly at the white, aseptic wall in front of him, confused, deflated, highly bothered to say the least. He hopes vehemently that in the mean time his cerebral activities would come to life and finally literally wake him up, but he's got the suspicion his own brain firmly believes this is all just a nightmare and in reality he's still cuddled up under the pile of freshly cleaned blankets, all of them strictly chromatically matching to one another, he likes to cover himself up with. Certainly not ready at all to wake up on a Sunday morning, even earlier than how he would usually wake up during the weekdays.

The main problem is always the same: his neighbour and his unrelenting passion for singing at preposterous and socially unacceptable hours. After the the first nights spent eyes wide open, glaring at the ceiling, for his sleep deprived self was not a nice fellow to get acquainted with, it had occurred to him that the guy next door evidently didn't know of or simply wouldn't acknowledge the existence of karaoke rooms, specifically built for the purpose. And furthermore that when he proceeded listening to his own favourite singers, probably careful in keeping the sound in the earphones and not outside of them, he would unconsciously follow along, out of pure inability of maintaining some kind of self control. Too bad he did create art when he opened his pleasingly shaped mouth, indeed.

He does it even know.

And Taeyong can't really complain.  
For the guy's also stunning. Incredibly. And Taeyong may or may not have a silly teenie tiny minuscule temporary crush on him.

Temporary. That's what he's been telling himself over and over again, just like a prayer, and even told Johnny, his coworker at that shabby Chinese restaurant where he has been part timing for months now, The Dumpling King, better known by the way more appropriate alias Dodgy Dumplings, which even its owners called it as and which definitely provided a better fit, for a whole lot of reasons he didn't have the will to look through, for the list kept on getting longer and longer by the hour.

"Temporary", the taller one - unfortunately for our hero, we're talking about Johnny - had melodramatically stressed when he was consequently forced, or better to say, bribed with the phone number of a certain Thai guy he totally had the hots for, to stalk said neighbour on one of his normal days, together with said "temporarily crushing" dumbo.

Teenie tiny crush, which hasn't made his heart jolt in his chest as if it wants to take a leap of fate and bloodily hop away on the filthy pavement until it would obviously reach the hands of the stalked one, just to yell at him something along the lines of: « Take me, I'm yours. Do whatever you'd like with me. », in the exact moment he finds out that the guy's favourite hobby is to be a pure-hearted super hero who helps old ladies to cross the street, and never gets out of his house without taking with him some coins so that he would have the chance to give them to whoever seems in need of them. The guy works in hospitals and schools, he does charity work and projects to raise awareness about any kind of issue bothering his good ethic. He seems more humane than normal people, magnanimous and kind-hearted.

He's also younger than Taeyong, notion which, other than feeding his own most remote ual fantasies - very remote if you consider his last goes back to the historical era when the dinosaurs were still crowding the globe and roaring away -, heats up his chest and makes his own intestines feel weirdly contorted, and it is not Dodgy Dumpling's dumplings' fault this time. Because that idiot, whose name he found out is Sicheng (not really an idiot, from Johnny's perspective, but hey, Taeyong's too sensitive about the whole topic to care) who always follows the amateur singer around, just like a fly would circle around some dish with food in it if left unguarded, is crazy about cosplaying unknown characters of video games he's also fond of playing to the extent of even wearing those kind of clothes on a normal day out, and though this is not really a crime, for also Taeyong has had his otaku period, it's still true that, on the other hand, Yoonoh (that's the name of the neighbour) walks around making people happy and probably solving world hunger and poverty problems and the economic crisis in Europe too, at the same time. And that's such a positively weird and nice thing to do, so absurd for a guy his age, that Taeyong can't help reaching with his hand for his own chest to check if his heart's still there, for he's definitely falling more and more in the void of pure disillusionment he would ever have a chance.  
  
He may or may not have found out about his Chinese friend's name upon casually stumbling in those guys' yearbooks. It was also out of luck, he remembers he had recognised the neatly folded uniform his neighbour used to wear during his school days, on a Saturday afternoon, inside one of those boxes whose future is probably to be kept for ever and ever in a dark basement, forgotten by the entire humankind. At the time he had been sure what school that uniform belonged to, and he thought that it wouldn't have hurt doing some unconcerned research over the matter. There, he had found out about both Yoonoh's and Sicheng's names and birth year. The guy, upon meeting Taeyong on the landing, felt the urge to validate himself, « Spring cleaning. » and a scratch at the nape of his neck. That's some kind of habit of his, when he's embarrassed about something, almost anything as Taeyong guesses. The highly bothered and frustrated Taeyong would have lunged at him, because who would ever ponder to tidy up every nook and cranny of his own house on a Saturday afternoon and moreover in winter, so not even justified by the season? Him, to begin with. But he thought that was some kind of Taeyong thing, some kind of OCD meets Hygiene Mania meets the already disturbed mind of Lee Taeyong thing, not a Jung Yoonoh thing. And gosh, if that's not a turn on.  
  
Johnny comes to understand that "silly teenie tiny minuscule temporary crush" is neither temporary nor minuscule anymore.  
  
« So? When are you finally going to ask him out? » asks him Ten, on whom his menacing glares evidently appear as powerless, and who, unfortunately for our hero, doesn't even possess the same amount of tact as his newly acquired boyfriend. And to think he's the one who brought them together. Still thanks to his crush for said neighbour, Ten emphasises, not prone in giving in to Taeyong's usual and daily grumbling. He doesn't say a word on how much of a disloyal friend has Johnny been in carelessly blabbing on with his boyfriend about Taeyong's non existent love life. Taeyong plays with the straw dipping into the glass he's staring at, moving it around, admiring the swashing of the ice tea he has been picking at for minutes now, submerging the ice cubes from time to time and sipping the freezing cold drink out of the ones who are slightly more consumed. He wouldn't consider asking Yoonoh out, for the real problem, way more arduous than his chronic incapability in wording out coherent complex sentences in his presence, is the crystal clear evidence of him having already a girlfriend. He doesn't know much about her, only that she's pretty. she loves to call him Jaehyunie - who knows why -, and her voice is way too soft to hear a thing when he tries - quite consistently, he must admit - to eavesdrop on their conversations, a ear leaning against the wall in common between the two flats.  
  
Weirdly enough, Taeyong is immensely good at getting things off his chest with Johnny, but at the same time he always manages to leave out the worse bits.  
  
Maybe because all of that enouraging hwaiting spirit he's been getting from him and the sporadic advices, other than his assertion that it's just a matter of time, have been fueling his pointless hope that he and the recipient of his secret admiration may be a thing, and Taeyong nourishes himself with that remote possibility. When on some particular nights Yoonoh can't stop singing with a mellow tone filled with melancholy, not bothering to get any minute of sleep, Taeyong leans his head against the wall of his bedroom, sitting on his own bed, closes his eyes and listens. He dreams of magically finding himself on the other side of it, next to him, or better, in his arms, his voice lulling him to sleep. But the next day, as the rays of sun hit his face, he reminds himself that life is never that indulgent as he'd like and with a shower he shakes it off, all of it, except for his feelings. Those are shower-resistant. It's not that he never thinks that maybe he can finally shrug them off, but on those days his thoughts keep him from going to work on time and his bad timing outsmarts him. He rushes off and meets Yoonoh, rushing too to whatever his day is gonna bring him to. Yoonoh waves at him, dimples devouring both his own face and the poor guy's uncontrollable chest, and the latecomer is trapped. Before he can reply Yoonoh has vanished, taking the stairs. Taeyong stays there for some more, and just watches were he used to be just seconds before, baffled.  
  
On one days he finally comes to his senses just on time to cry « Good morning! », as he leans on the fence and observes the staircases, running after each other in a repetition of squares, floor to floor.  
  
The boy's not there but he can hear his laughter.  
« Likewise, Taeyong sshi. »  
  
In that exact instant Teyong would much prefer crumple just like that newspaper he saw the night before while coming back home, and let the wind take him as far as it can. Then he realises something he had quite grasped some seconds before thnaks to his incurable shameful self which kept him from paying attention to those details: Yoonoh knows his name.  
  
And Taeyong never referred it to him.

*

The next days are a whirlwind of hypotheses, stress induced nail-eating, suddenly staring at Johnny as if his nostrils hide the sense of life just to go back to sulking in a corner soon after. He daily revisits and reviews each and every little exchange of words he and Yoonoh have had when they were in each other's company. "Company", he snorts, that's delirious. Their conversations have always consisted of simple murmurs out of pure courtesy, shared hurriedly before disappearing in their own personal lives. Surely Taeyong has called his name more than Yoonoh himself can possibly fathom, especially during these last months of pure perdition, but he has been wary enough to turn up the volume of his stereo, in order for the other one not to understand how much of a he can be while masturbating in the shower, high on the thought of the countless uses Yoonoh can make out of his own mouth, other than singing.  
  
Then it's the answer coming to him.  
  
« Hey, my sister there kind of wants to know when you'll be resuming your dance lessons at that school. » Yoonoh scratches the nape of his neck as usual and Taeyong's frustration is palpable but that's not anything new. The girl who calls Yoonoh "Jaehyunie" peeks out from behind the entrance door to his flat. And Taeyong understands. At last. She's his sister. And that's also the reason why, now that he can see her, peering from behind Yoonoh's figure, he can definitely say he's seen her somewhere else. And that's also the reason why Yoonoh knows his name. Taeyong has taught dance for a long period of time. It was more of a passion than a steady job. He didn't get paid that much and the salary couldn't really help him live by but still he loved every moment of it. He did it occasionally, at a dance school, in the form of workshops.  
  
He looks at her. « I quit. »

For saying "hey, i kind of broke my leg  two years ago and know have completely healed but still have not the guts to try again" would be too long, too personal and most importantly wouldn't leave that great of a first impression on Yoonoh, who is still, by the way, standing in front of him, distracting as usual. Taeyong is more than 100% sure that the plant of ficus next to his own entrance door possesses definitely more appeal than him himself, who is wearing a blue pajama with tiny elephants on it. One of the many perks of having a devilish woman as sister, also rather good in convincing him in doing anything with just a little amount of aegyo needed. Now that Taeyong ponders about it, he's got way too many soft spots to look the part of the tough guy, as if his own appearance wouldn't give away he's a total softie. Nevertheless Yoonoh keeps on staring at him and Taeyong suddenly finds out he's been keeping his breath for how long now? He doesn't know, just exhales. And then feels the urge to add: « I'm sorry. » Glancing again at the girl with the last strand of courage he's got in his body, for diverting his eyes from Yoonoh's is way too complicated for another human being to understand his pain and the strenuous effort spent behind it. He things he may have looked considerate, polite, even kind. Kindness undeserved, since the same girl has just deprived him of precious moments he could have devoted totally unbiased admiration of the boy's gentle facial traits which make him look like a prince fresh out of one of those Disney movies he had been obsessed with when he was a child.

 

He closes the door behind himself.  
Breathes.   
  
If the Big Crunch had to happen in that moment, he figures he wouldn't be that displeased about it. Then again, he would kill to steal a kiss from Yoonoh's lips, even if that means he'd have to change identity and escape to the North Pole. It's weird how, as the months go, his fantasies become vivider and vivder, instead of die out.  
  
Thanks to a blackout he understands he is undeniably in love. It's evening and he's ironing some clothes. He wouldn't have until the next morning but the Chair™ on the corner of his bedroom is slowly collapsing under the weight of all of his constant maniacal washing and he decides to spare its life on a whim. Then, suddenly, everything turns pitch black and just a second after that, the emergency light in his kitchen comes to life, the faint brilliance of it peering from behind the bedroom door, enough for him to place the iron somewhere safe, unplug it. However there's that small fragment of time in between when he finds himself in the dark and a colourful exclamation leaves . He doesn't think he's been that loud until he hears a soft chuckle coming from the other side of the wall. He knows who it belongs to. How couldn't he? Taeyong knows everything that's Yoonoh's by heart, better than a dog waiting for the rumble of the familiar engine of his owner's car to come back home. « You too? » Yoonoh asks and Taeyong's heart tries to escape once more. Is the apocalypse finally here? He thinks. And he doesn't ponder how Yoonoh's question may be irrelevant, knowing that judging from his window's view it was not just them who were left powerless but the entire neighbourhood. Probably the whole city, or nation, or world. I mean, if some aliens were to attack he would have thought of them leaving poor humanity in the dark, so that defending itself would have been harder. He's close to replying back but then his dreamy neighbour continues. « I've got some candles, if you'd like.  »   
 

« Oh, i'm ok. There's the phone's flashlight. » He would love to hit himself in that moment, quite hard too.  
« I've got pizza too, you know. »  
  
Yoonoh adds. And Taeyong thinks that's a good excuse to literally rush out of his flat, again in his pjs and run over to Yoonoh, forgetting to get his house keys and blocking himself out, a genius. But he doesn't notice until he's looking at the guy that makes his heart skip beats on a regular basis, and he's looking down at him with a light smirk on his lips. « Aren't you gonna need some keys to go back? » he whispers. And Taeyong's way too close to him to reason decently, way too close, so that Yoonoh's warm breath reverberates on his skin, sending shivers along his spine and generating sparkles in his chest. He understands he should control his own crushing-self better, in order to prevent gaffes. As he turns back to look at his entrance door, now distant, aggravated by the unlucky finding, Yoonoh blocks his line of vision, closing the door and properly inviting him in.   
 

The candles are lit already, but Yoonoh seems to feel like they're not quite enough and adds some more. 

As Taeyong makes his way into the living room, he finds out Yoonoh's place is less roomy than his own. It's like a studio, and the bed sits there, at the centre of the room, surrounded by shelves and any kind of furniture. Less orderly but still tidy enough for his spider senses not to kick in and make a fool out of him. Pizza's laying in the box it was delivered in on th bed. An extra layer of sheets separating it from the blankets the other one probably laid under at night. Those thoughts of Yoonoh sleeping, his pretty lashes spreading out like butterfly wings. He stops that train of thoughts. Aborts it. Reminds himself he shouldn't meditate that much. Yoonoh ushers him on the bed while he fetches some tissues and Taeyong excuses himself, suddenly shy, taking some time to adjust on the soft surface with the intent of not looking too much laid back and taking up some of the guy's vital space. In the mean time he tries to think about the spare keys he gave Johnny months before. He could phone him now, but he has the suspect his bestfriend is at Ten's by now and they are probably hitting it off the good ol' way. He blushes and rejects a sudden impulse to vomit. What happens in Ten's bedroom must stay in Ten's bedroom.   
 

« When I moved in I didn't have enough money to get a bed and a sofa, figured I could live without the latter and also preferred a good night's sleep. » Yoonoh comes back and leaves some tissues on Taeyong's side, the dark hair on his pale arm catching the latter's attention. He found it manly, y. Then again there was nothing he didn't find y in Yoonoh's figure. But that's another story. Yoonoh pats the place next to him, silently asking Taeyong to sit closer, which he does, following the other's lead. The guy with fair skin takes a slice of the food in front of him and bites a big mouthful out of it, famished. Taeyong stares. The other one misinterprets his gaze and munches faster, rushing to swallow the bite and empty, so that he would be able to talk.   
  
« I'm Yoonoh, by the way. »   
« Oh, I know. » Taeyong says. And then regrets it.   
 

Yoonoh smiles, flashing dimples and happiness with no regards to Taeyong's sanity.   
« It looks like we've both done our own research. » And Taeyong asks himself if the younger doesn't know of the two year difference that divides them. On a second thought probably he knows. There's something giving it off, like the sly smirk plastered on his face. He doesn't ask him the details as he's quite sure that his sister has something to do with the whole ordeal. There's silence. Just the ticking of a clock, somewhere in the room, the distant sound of honking down in the streets, a dog barking even farther away. But there's silence between them, just eyes on eyes. Maybe they're both on the same wavelength, maybe they are not. Yoonoh comes back to life and puts the slice of pizza he was munching on back in the box, then wiping himself and his hands on a tissue and storing it away, with the box.  
 

« Close your eyes, Taeyong. »  
The latter glares at him. Too much for being insubordinate.  
« Hyung. » Yoonoh adds. And it ssems enough for the other to comply.   
 

Taeyong's mind clings to the idea that the other one is about to kiss him but that would be too perfect to be true. And too sudden. Silly for him to his own lips, now even Yoonoh knows what the to other one's expecting. Or maybe not. Taeyong's heart is beating way too fast, so much that he hears it clearly echoing into his ears and pulsating against his ribcage. He feels hot, his face is hot, his body is. He knew this would happen. And the kiss doesn't arrive.  
 

Yoonoh sings. Obviously he sings. And Taeyong stays still because months before he wouldn't have even imagined to hear him this close. This is just like a dream come true and even pizza doesn't seem that promising now, not in comparison with the prospect of spending the night like this, rocked by the sweet sound of Yoonoh's voice. The song reaches its finale, ing in a triumph of soft and tender murmurs and hummings. Taeyong's lungs started following the same rhythm and pace the other one gifts the melody with, his hands are tense on his own legs. Yoonoh covers one of them with his own, with the aim of help him relax.  
 

Taeyong looks at him and his heart aches for the love the boy in front of him could give him back, he knows that would be the purest kind of love, the chastest, for that's Yoonoh's essence too. And he can't refrain himself from doing what he's about to do. Not anymore.  
 

He shushes him.  
 

And Yoonoh loves it just as much. He blends their lips together, helps the older one in moulding them in the shape of something beautiful, heavenly. An unworldly encounter. Taeyong pushes himself out of the line he doesn't want to cross, not then, not now, but still he does and it's tongues meeting and breaths clashing. Their hands search for each other in the desperate attempt of erasing even the slightest amount of distance that still manages to linger between them. It's hearts racing and love making, with clothes and no further going than that. Yoonoh's hands finally tighten around Taeyong's small frame, he pulls him on his own body. There's a small pause. Their lips are still together but they are both breathless and probably don't even know for how long they've been reaching for a second more, another touch.  They stay like that, Taeyong's arms circling Yoonoh's neck, one over the other, the mess of sheets under them. Both sharing the same secret.

Yoonoh smiles.  
Taeyong loses his breath to his heartbeat, loses his heartbeat in between Yoonoh's eyes and swollen, wet lips. 

A peck.  
Another one.

The beeping sound of some appliance in the house signals that the power's back and slowly the neighbourhood's lights come back to life, one after the other, till the lights in that house too turn back on.  « You know, there's many ways of telling me you don't like that song. » Yoonoh says, Taeyong laughs. They both agree nobody needs light, not them at least. Taeyong's hands caress Yoonoh's cheeks. They get closer and close their eyes.  
 

And their eyelids make it dark again.

**Author's Note:**

> cross posted this on aff, hope you liked it, I'd love it if you did ,, ____ ,, English is not my mother tongue btw so please do comment if you find any errors in grammar. spelling errors are probably just caused by my laziness sigh. love this couple btw, who thinks this pairing should have way more ffs? * raises hand


End file.
